Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Random Randomness

Sometimes I wonder
how anything
can be random?
At least for me,
even randomness
comes in a  pattern.
In those random
moments I remember
you. How you randomly
used to come
and smile.
In one of those
random  moments you
confessed attraction,
I confessed love
and you took my cue.
We randomly started
roaming down
the lanes and
you randomly asked
me to marry you.
I said yes – it
wasn't random then,
but now that I
look back and think
It seems the randomest.
Now I am at a random
point again where
down the n-th glass
of a random drink
I ask you to prove
your love for me.
How random, you
might feel. But
trust me it's not, I have
travelled this random road.

Monday, February 4, 2013

Why Do We Let Go?


Dedicated to a woman I read about, who committed suicide last week. May her soul rest in peace.


When everything goes wrong,
When there's nowhere to belong,
Why do we let go?

When number seem tall,
When comforts fall,
Why do we let go?

When love isn't returned,
When vile comments burn
Why do we let go?

When problems unfold,
When friends don't hold,
Why do we let go?

When tears don't spill
When fears instill
Why do we let go?

When pain is not pain
When efforts go in vain
Why do we let go?

When loss is Every Day
Bu God's still the way,
Why...Why do we let go?

Friday, January 18, 2013

What is it about This Night

What is it about this night that attracts me?
It's the same dark Indian sky - a battle-field
of grey and pink clouds, scattered stars.
A biker at my door step nodding in acknowledgement.
The next moment I am a pillion zooming past
dusty streets and honking cars - such chaos.

What is it about this night that calls me?
It's the same old destination - more trees
and lesser people. A highway as a leeway
to all perils of this hateful city.
This ride is a big U-turn and I'll be back
To the same cacophony, same city trash.

What is it about this night that strikes me?
It's the same me wearing the same old pair of jeans,
A jacket to meet the cold, kohl in my eyes.
Same oggling at the silent, cold night
Still searching for something eventful to happen
Till the cold chills me and I wish my haven.

Not until you reached for my numb hand on my knee
And placed it on your warm, alive chest, Not until
I felt the rhythmic thud within, did I realize
What is so special - It was feeling reality and acceptance -
Life is so much more than just me. It's in the wide
night sky that cuddles me, in every person with a heart
that beats, in every moment you allow yourself to get old
and live with experiences, in places, with you.

Let it Be for Tonight

This morning I was just me -
Detached from the past, estranged from time
I chased emptiness down the streets
Like a lost soul searching something divine
People walked past, people pushed by
I felt like a complete non-entity
Until you stoppped, loooked at me in the eye
And stole away the last bit of sanity

I sat next to you, the sun going down,
Enveloped in the shadowy gown.
The shadows growing longer,
Your eyes shining brighter,
The moonight reflected in them as clearly as in a silent pool.

You smile, you turn away, you laugh.
I can see you shaking with mirth
The straight line of your back bent forward
In your hands a spell that captured beauty, captured moments
And you went back to them, with you me - revelling in nature.

The wind shifting spikes of your hair
There is something magical the way your sad eyes move
They seek peace, they seek love, they seek finese
I stutter, I stumble, I might not be any of these.
But I know I would always understand. I would be there.
If not with you, somewhere, still understanding.

The stars are up now, my hope is bright
If not forever, let it be for tonight.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

Dear Daddy, smile and say - Merry Christmas!


 

 
Dad, I won't be back this Christmas too
Don't wait for me, I'm not coming to you
Put up the star on big old tree again
Place the holy Infant, say my name.
Think I am with you, holding your hand
Waltzing to tunes of the Christian band
Gather the street kids, give them my love
Send them a Santa cake and a pair of gloves
Beat your best drum like we always did
Tap your foot as the merry kids sing
As you sit in the chapel at the first bell gong
Close your eyes, remember Mom's song
Let the tears fall, let them wash away
But for me dear Daddy, smile and say - Merry Christmas!

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

I lost a love, a friend somehow.

All I wanted was to be free
Of enmity and obligations
All I wanted was to be free
Of malice and self-negations
All I wanted was to be free
Of you and your desires
All I wanted was to be free
Of neglect and eternal fire

I wanted to be free of constant misuse
I wanted to bee free of physical abuse

All I wanted was to love
Every moment together
All I wanted was to love
Us being forever
All I wanted was to love
You with all I could
All I wanted was to love
All for which I stood

I wanted to love and be loved in turn
I wanted to love without intent.

But Maybe I thought to much
I still think a lot
I expected you to be
What you were not
I wanted to be
What I could not
And I still blame myself for being a tad too weak
I could have seen you are not what I seek
Guess it's too late to change things now
Only regret - I lost a love, a friend somehow.

Friday, November 2, 2012

A Blurred Glass


Just as I closed one door, another opened in the aisle
I stepped precariously first, hastily next
Touched open the door wide and peeped inside
It was beautiful and serene but empty
The soft click of the door closing amplified
All around me it was just me, my heartbeat and breathing
And a yearning to touch and experience things around me
Everything was electrified with a strange foreign energy –
Completely alien but painfully tempting
Eyes closed I sensed everything I could get at
Exhilarated, I could feel myself vibrating in sweat.

Something moved – I dashed towards it.

Nothingness again, but pulse wouldn’t rest
 A fever burning within, I rested my cheek
On the cool foggy glass – found solace in chaos

I saw him through the blurred glass

He looked at me square, unassuming face, difficult eyes
But I knew it was him I had felt and caressed
He came closer, I pressed further
Matching his hands on the glass, his face matching mine –
It was the forever moment of pause
We both celebrated the touch-less warmth.
Till they opened the door and dragged me out
I did not protest, I didn’t call out
I looked on – still behind the glass, reaching till last
And I knew he was real, I saw him through a blurred glass
Not knowing if I’ll find him, away from the blurred glass.

Monday, October 8, 2012

Summer Shower



Dried and tired I draw a pause for your return
Awaiting your seamlessly unpredictable pattern
Keeping me awake night and day in your wake

Till I see you turn to me shy and reluctant
Making this wait relentlessly aching

Till I wish away this pain of waiting
Dried and withering under your ability

Only to be resurrected with you drenching me
Embraced in your love shower, tuned by gurgling thunder
As a moan in the back of your endless throat

You keep me alive – to tease, not to ease
To enjoy my helpless devotion till your return

I ended this every time, you re-invented the fire
You re-invented it only to tell me you have a new plain to shower on…
You re-invented it only to tell me I Too can go for a stable stream.

As if I never wanted a stable shower of my own,
As if I ever needed a passing cloud to tell me so…

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Till Resolution

Every morning before I realize, I get worldly wise
I find myself walking to the side of the bountiful spring
Fetched from dreams too recent - audience to memories.
Each day etched like scars deep - so real, yet out of my reach
Closed eyes – your voice ringing clear in my ears,
Froze – your face held close, could feel those tears.

Basked in the hue of the golden sun,
Ethereal – you hold your arms out open,
I walked into them, so-called unending covenant
Of an embrace filled in the eternity of a moment.

Period. Before the rude awakening – can’t be erased
By the stream my eyes blurred, salt – I taste
In the bitter moments – fruit of my hamartia.
Drawing patterns on wet sand with my forefinger
I wait for the moment to pass, to the resolution of my tragedy.
I stand up, take a deep breath, wipe my tears with muddy hands
And smile at your name hidden in the patterns I drew in the sand.

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

A failure with dreams


A born failure, borne with debt and duty,
When it came to be, it was a she,
And people say, she was too early.
All her life people said – suffer for your greed
They called her vain, loud, eyesore
She met too many who wanted much more
Before she could own, they walked out the door
Each time she wept, "You are the last" – she swore.

“No one else shall game me again”
Poor, so blinded with pain
She couldn’t figure if they were a lot,
Or just one heartless, one ruthless soul
That had rooted deep in her heart
And when he left, he tore her apart.
Silence, is all she has now – to sympathize, to mock
For nothing anyone says can rewind the clock
She is holding on, trying to stay afloat
Or she would had traded her soul long ago
Long ago to the king of death and fire
In return of days of a gone year, a wasteful year.

She couldn’t, sworn to the afterlife
Waiting for end to consume her pride
The day she will be finally crowned
She will look back, still love to the last
Bury all deep within, expel tears to past.

Friday, March 9, 2012

KYU NAHI


Kal jo kuchh bhi tha
Wo aaj fir kyu nahi?

Khule aasman k sarhad ko
paane bebas aashaaye meri
raund gayi raah par kahi....
jo saath de mera ab
wo aaj hai yaha kyu nahi?
                                                                Hawa bhi mujh par has rahi
                                                                Khele kaise ye waqt bhi
                                                                Le chale jo door is zindagi se
                                                                Wo aasra hai ki nahi?
                Aasu bhi kho gaye, dhul gaye
                Boondo se, seejh liye koi zindagi,
                Jo sham mujhko dhaank le
                Wo sahil naseeb kyu nahi?
                                                                Naam likh gaye wo pathar
                                                                Ki lakeer se, unko meri syaahi
                                                                Kam padi, jo na mit sake, wo
                                                                Shabd saral aaj kyu nahi?
                Kabse hum adig khade
                Aas lagaye aaj bhi
Jo chhod gaye is raah pe
Wo laut-te aaj kyu nahi?

                                                Anjaano ki bheed me
                                                Neend palko pe nahi
Mujhko hausla jo de,
Ishaare kho gaye kahi...

Thaam tanhayi ka haath
Hum chal rahe; der sahi,
Ab tak roothe kyu atal,
Ho mudke aate kyu nahi?
Sawan ke baadal ki or
Aankh utha toh le abhi,
Ek nishaan apna bhi dekh
Jise waqt ki imteha padi.
Khare laaye unko jo,
Wo kasar hai baaki kyu nahi?
Duur jaate unko dekh
Kyu aasuvo ki thi kami
Ek baar keh dete agar
Na hoti khushiyo ki bali.
Kaash ye saans na hoti, ya
Saath wo hote hamare,
Par kaisi ye mushkil ghadi?
Hai haal aisa kyu abhi?

Kal jo kuchh bhi tha
Wo aaj fir kyu nahi.......

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

PERPETUAL WAIT

It is a cold, cold December night
Quite past the decent hours
Been sitting in an emptying café
You are way past the stipulated time.

I still sit here in one manner, half waiting,
Half treating myself to rare freedom,
To involuntary closing of eyes,
Relishing the caress of tickling, tempting,
Consuming cold breeze on my face
From West perhaps…

Snap! I get back. I see
Random questioning eyes scanning me,
No coffee in hand, no company.
I wait not for meeting you, I wait,
I wait till this saturation prevails
And gives way to an endless abyss.

Do I want that? Or is this better?
This waiting, this freedom to anticipate,
No teetering between Love and Hate…
Having a sure seat, an assured ally of loneliness…


You come, you leave, I am still the same,
Waiting in some place, a dark cold night.
You are periodical, this night for me is forever,
Let me hold it dearest, to the place you desert.

When you are gone for good, when I am with myself,
I shall waltz my way into this inky darkness
To be the mistress of all that I love, all those are mine.
I shall raise a toast to me, to you my beloved, and this night divine…
I said I shall, I would have, but…

How troubling these waters I tread!
I wonder which wrong turn I took and where?
Now I have reached a dead end that is you.
Desperate I want to flee. I know I must go.
But this umbilicus tied to your heart cold
I fear to sever, the mess it would make.
Should I paint my hands in my own blood?
Or would you do the honor with mortal hurt?

All in vain, I know, my life an un-writable slate.
In perpetual anxiety, till date I wait.
Now I even doubt the purpose of this ticking
Is it taking me somewhere? Or just an in-thing?

Ah…there you come now, waving in a non-intense.
Again, it’s me who is late, off-time. An inconvenience.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

LIMBO DAWN


LIMBO DAWN
I am suspended in between two worlds,
One clouded in dusk, other seeing dawn.
I look at them days rising to the morn
Wearing new robes, their self-endorsed
The Caribbean grows, roots in pre-identities
Its shoot of dewed new leaves, new identity,
They walk on fresh bridge-bar I hang on. I see
Them limbo-ing past me. Happy beings.
I see them and my mind meanders free
To traded souls who incepted in their misery.
Good ones upright, maimed prostrate, they
Fought agonizing life the limbo way.
Filial love pass it on believing re-assembly
From beast to man, man to better man as in
Egyptian Osiris, resurrected Son or the Kali.
Valiant, enduring they threw aside the chains
The slavery yoke transformed to limbo game,
They fought imperialism with imagination, I say.
They survived, now dawned through the limbo way.

EXPLANATION
I am suspended in between two worlds,
One clouded in dusk, other seeing dawn.
I look at them days rising to the morn
Wearing new robes, their self-endorsed
The Caribbean grows, roots in pre-identities
Its shoot of dewed new leaves, new identity,
They walk on fresh bridge-bar I hang on. I see
Them limbo-ing past me. Happy beings.

The poem is a take-away from Wilson Harris’s essay ‘the limbo gateway’ and various concerns expressed by him are represented through the means of a man who is in between two cultures or two worlds and its peoples. One world is the old Africa and its identity – burdened by slavery and degeneration, having no true essence of itself (as a result of years of servitude to others). It is “clouded in dusk”, referring to the fact that the older identity is primitive and it must give way to dawn, that is, the new world, the new Caribbean world with its new identity. People are moving towards this dawning age and the speaker is watching their progress. The speaker is the bridge here. He is hanging on a fresh bar- this fresh bar represents the gateway, the limbo gateway. People, to pass on to the rising world, have to limbo through a gap. It is not easy; it is a challenge that they face bravely and cross over to progress and happiness.
The new Caribbean is growing but its roots are still present in its tradition. They never forget who they truly are but they adapt and contribute to the new society whole-heartedly. They are progressive like new leaves and fresh like dew, they are working towards happiness. This limbo-ing becomes an important phenomenon of their progression and hence it becomes an important part of Caribbean identity.

I see them and my mind meanders free
To traded souls who incepted in their misery.
Good ones upright, maimed prostrate, they
Fought agonizing life the limbo way.
Filial love pass it on believing re-assembly
From beast to man, man to better man as in
Egyptian Osiris, resurrected Son or the Kali.
The speaker’s mind meanders. This is a reference to the importance of ‘imagination’ in Harris’s point of view. He believes that imagination is the one powerful element that has helped the slaves of Africa to come out and demand their identity, imagination has saved their race. Imagination has kept their minds intact in times of unfathomable sufferings and helped them derive a sense of themselves when they were traded like livestock or property. Here, their imagination gave birth to the famous limbo dance.
When slaves were crammed into ships, they sometimes did not have enough space (or were heavily chained) to stand and so they crawled like spiders (the reference to anancy – the spider hero in African literary tradition). Others could stand upright and to have something to take their minds off their plight, they invented the limbo dance where people move beneath a bar that is constantly lowered till people crawl like spiders, chest up, trying to cross the bar without touching or falling it. It was something original, something distinct to be saved and cherished. They passed limbo dance as a tradition.
The lowering of the body while crossing the bar and subsequent rising of the body is akin to progression from a primitive, subjugated race to being the people of the new world. It is what almost the whole world believes to be sacred like Osiris in Egypt, or resurrection of Christ, or the many-handed goddess of Hinduism- Kali who saves the world by creating a barrier between the devotees and evil, a symbol of remembrance of amputated limbs during slavery.
Valiant, enduring they threw aside the chains
The slavery yoke transformed to limbo game,
They fought imperialism with imagination, I say.
They survived, now dawned through the limbo way.
By inventing limbo dance in the circumstances of slavery, the courageous ancestors have turned the tables. They have turned their liability (of being a slave) into strength. Of all things, they have managed to bring entertainment and joy from slavery. Their imagination of limbo and seeing it as their medium of having a distinct identity and that has helped them move on from slavery to the world of progression and development. Limbo has thus become a gateway to reach the dawn from dusk, it is a bridge through which people have to pass (they have to realize it as their distinct identity) to reach the new world.
REFRENCES
·         Harris, Wilson. The Limbo Gateway.
·         McWatt, Mark. “Some observations on the notions of history, time and the imagination in the thought of Wilson Harris.”
·         http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Limbo_(dance)
·         http://www.moadsf.org/about/themes.html : MOAD - museum of the African Diaspora.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Ariel Ariel!


Ariel! Ariel! I command, do my bid.
Cast the spirits and raise the wind.
From deep bellies of the silent sea
Call out the great Eros misery.
Ariel, you minion that roamed Eden,
You who deemed first children heathen,
Gather your forces, evoke a pyre
To burn betrayal in eternal fire.
Surreal dance of destined ends,
Sense, realization, all weakened…
Be my jinn, be my wishes fulfilled.
Banish them undone with guilt.
Ariel, you see them grinning at me?
Backstabbed me in love-lust reverie
I now carry the scar a souvenir of loss
Carry it to the stump of the cross.
When skies open, I’ll bury them all
Painful, bashful or had me appalled.
Then dear Ariel, of them be alert,
Treacherous warts you must inspect,
And when I am put to the test,
Bury me along with the rest.

Friday, December 9, 2011

WEEKEND RITUAL


I look out my window, I see him sitting there,
A beer mug in his hand, surroundings austere.
The distant music fading in and out,
I follow his rhythmic movements.
He’s head banging in tandem to his tapping foot jerks.
Even at this distance the moisture rolls down the mug
And moisture shines on his sweating brow
His hair soft, refreshing like the cold beer,
Occasional smiles at change of songs so dear!
Every weekend as a ritual I sit by my window
To watch him come, enjoy beer – music, and go.

Monday, December 5, 2011

CELEBRATING DIVERSITY


Some big day indeed! I can see
The big red building colorfully alight,
Dotted with Sahibs and Memsahibs in white.
They step down from plush, sleek white cars
To velvet green, red carpet with charm.
I see, I see them, they unseeing,
Men in white but men in dark.

How different it looks out there,
Colorful but in stark contrast
To where I stand; I son of none,
I am, I was forever………here
The black-market mongrel; austere
This place, I call………….my home
Where I design my thoughtful poem.

Together as white, as brown and grey.
They shout I hear a soul-less sound-
The “Vande Mataram,Vande Mataram” rounds.
Pathetic, I pity their perilous ways
Weighed down by heavy pockets, I say.
Cuffed by chains of ‘I’, ‘Me’ and ‘Mine’.
How can they have straightened spines?

Come again, heroes to Rama’s abode
And see how white-washed it looks.
They are all united now, all together-
Fair, dark, olive, sun burnt, all forever.
They now here celebrate celebrities
But name it now “Celebrating Diversity”.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

COFFEE CASE WORSENED


The aroma eases through, unlocks doors
That lead to memory’s unending source.

For the first time I close my eyes.
I look inside me and I am lax of words.
Alone in a group of people? Not nice!
Unending time, if nothing, really hurts.
Living up to my lessons, sad to say I am astray.
Mother-learnt values all lost hues.
I sometime wonder what she will think
If she saw me here, if she was near.
And then with a flinch I brush it aside.
Curse me, I say, for carrying insane pride.
Pride that I dwell amongst proofs of alienation,
Pride that is hitting me hard; no realization.
Morn come, things won’t be any the same,
I’ll be back looking at things that seem now sane.

For now, it’s me and my penetrating coffee,
Hot, sweet, bitter. Alive. Stirring within, without me.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

Coffee Cases


Bidding adieu to the last dregs of my over-priced coffee,
I sink to the taste of my purple days of unabashed reverie.
From those still-fresh figurines I pick bygone ghosts that haunt.
How they make my coffee more bitter, a persistent gaunt.

Even after I leave the coffee shop, the coffee mug still hot,
The aroma tugs along. The pebbles I kick down the road
Tumble along a shivery path, as shaky as my deeds.
Akin to a sinful soul that’s accustomed to passionate feed.

The rivulets of greed and guilt that ran down the same plains,
Now extinct, dry path, signatures of past like dried rains.
How pitiful, even the most intimate caresses go uncared.
Numbness overrides humanness, chastity not spared.

I burn them all down with the last dregs of my coffee.
I sink to the taste of my purple days of unabashed reverie.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

29.10.11


After much seeking I found
What is indeed worse than loneliness.
It’s not quite different, but pretty abhorrent-
Alienation, being an outcaste in a culture.
Worse so, if it is your identity de-cultured
(Or so they say) by ages of separation
From the roots. Severed into perdition.
Now an incomplete adult revisiting.
Need to learn much, cease to be as such.

Know when you turn, you are the issue.
Your dress, your speech, your friends,
All too base, so far removed from norm
That it is immoral, needless pretence.
You can try pleasing, but please, it’s useless.
You eat when they ask, drink when they say,
Sleep when they want. Dream whenever you may
Seek sanity. You get sanity in dreams alone.

And when you have dreamt enough,
Come back. It’s time for another meal.
That’s all there is. If not with sense,
Stuff yourself with food so that you live.
Evening entertainment gossips of congeniality.
Be sure, the moment you leave, you become
The new subject, target showing impropriety.
And some day, from some distant cousin
You will hear of a promiscuous mad woman,
Then you realize, it is you being spoken.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Trapped


In a sweating hillside villa
Hot and humid entourage
Peeping into the folds of the river
Fed by every evening shower
I am trapped, I am trapped.
Willing submission, not the rapt.

Stuck in a bricked room,
Windows so heavily clouded.
Lost my roots, lost my shoot,
Holding on to ward off the haunted.
I am trapped, I am trapped.
Anxious anticipation, ripped into half.

It’s killing, agonizingly slow
The river would not flow.
Jamming into a tiny orifice
Made tinier by them, I miss.
I am trapped, I am trapped.
Sluggish slumber, not vigilant act.

Forced companies, fake freedoms,
Treacherous talks and idle gossips
Weaving around lamer topics.
Should I laugh, cry or just nod?
I am trapped, I am trapped.
Second-hand speech, carefully matched.

Neither here, nor there, nowhere.
My mind hangs in between conversations.
Neither interest, nor relevance to anything sane
And they expect a courteous, eligible dame.
I am trapped, I am trapped.
Painfully poised, waiting a lapse.